


The Exiled

by Sintti



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gentle Dwalin, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Other, Post BoFA, Slow Build, Spoilers, canonical deaths, something unexpected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintti/pseuds/Sintti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Dwalin's merit as a warrior which saved him from the death penalty for voicing his denial of the new king on the throne.<br/>He was cast to exile instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lost Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: No BETA. Just spell check. Because I am too impatient to get these things online.  
> And I still don't know how to use AWs...

The battle of the five armies was just a memory of yesterday (literally) when the King and his nephews were laid to eternal rest under the Mountain with their respective weapons; Fili with his twin swords, Kili with his quiver and now-broken bow and Thorin, son of Thrain, his Orcrist laying on his chest, laid there by the Elven King, Thranduil.

After the traditional period of mourning for a king passed, Dain, son of Nain, from the Iron Hills was crowned as the king of Erebor. When the call to take a bow to the new king, everyone pays their tribute as commanded. Except the old warrior. Even some of the company just bows slightly, but Dwalin stands his back straight, looking up to the throne and the king sitting on it.

“Has the battle left you deaf and dumb? Bow,” one of the Iron Hill dwarves spats at him in low voice, turning his own gaze back down.

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, brother of Balin. Why are you not bowing to your king?” Dain roared from his position, but his voice was not angry, but demanding.

“I bow no king, thus mine has been buried beneath this very mountain. I shall pay my tribute only to him. To Thorin Aokenshield, son of Thrain”. Dwalin had his eyes cast on the “false” king, but his eyes full of grief more then hatred. “Also, I would bow only his true heirs after him”.

“Denying your king, but also placing someone on his place and naming other than his own son as the successor, is punished at treason by death. But you, Dwalin, son of Fundin, were one of the Company that took our home back from the dragon. Also fought bravely against the enemy of ours, proving your loyalty to your kind. Thus shall I only deem you exiled. You may have right to pay your tribute to YOUR dead king only, and ONLY on Durin’s Day. That shall be the only day you are allowed to set your foot into this mountain, if chosen to attend the celebration.”

Dwalin acknowledged his position as exiled and turned his back to the ledge with the throne. “Anyone who keeps me as a false king, shall have a chance to leave the mountain. When morning rises, will those TRAITORS be cast out.” Restless movements washed over the now standing crowd, no one daring to stand against their new king. And so Dwalin’s broad figure had left the great throne hall, leaving his former comrades.

He did not feel angered by the others’ choice to stay. After all, he basically had spent his whole life alongside Thorin, so had Balin, who once had said Thorin was one he could call king, Dwalin could not but agree. And so they had, laying their king inside the marble tomb after the great battle. Dwalin laid his eyes on the twin axes he had gotten back when the elves had paid their visit at the King Thorin’s funeral. Everyone was gifted back their belongings which were taken away when they were captured in Mirkwood. He placed Grasper and Keeper on their holders, ready to be strapped across his back for easier transport.

A knock got his attention and exhausted he just told them to come in. Tired smile graced his lips for a moment, meeting the ginger hair, now cut back to its original length when they had left the Bag End. The bowl cut was back once again on the scribe’s head.

“Odd hour for your visit, little one…” Ori slipper through the doorway and closed the door. With long dragging steps he took place near Dwalin, wanting to say something, fidgeting for a moment. “I tried to stand but Dori and Nori kept me still…” the scribe whispered, seemingly ashamed. Dwalin did know this, tho. He did see Nori keeping his other hand on Ori’s shoulder and other clamped over Ori’s mouth, preventing any vocal protest.

Ori kept his head bowed in shame, regretting not putting more effort into standing up, bur Dori’s great strength had held him firmly planted to his place.

Large hand cupped the back of his head, while other curled around his shoulders pulling him closer to the warrior. He did not smell like blood, gore and metal like last time but just plain faint scent of metal, hint of smoke. Ori circled his arms around the large torso, earning a chaste kiss atop of his head.

“I already packed my things. I am ready to leave,” Ori said against the wide chest. Dwalin sighted as an answer. He knew to expect it. “Won’t you say goodbyes to your brothers before leaving?” asked the warrior, still holding the smaller one in a gentle hug. Ori was the only one to know about Dwalin’s more affectionate side, which needed to just feel someone else near him, reminding there can be someone alive in his presence, that he wasn’t scaring everyone around him. And the scribe hit just perfectly in his arms.

“I left them a letter. If I stayed to tell them I am leaving with you they would just lock me inside for rest of my life. And I don’t want that”. Dwalin wound his arms under Ori’s and lifted the other up, latter’s legs tangling freely up in the air, and placed him on the bed. “You’d better sleep now, I finish my packing quickly. Then I join you,” the warrior whispered against the other’s hair after pressing a kiss on it. When he pulled away, the scribe was fast asleep. He always was when Dwalin was near, knowing he would always be safe near him.


	2. As the memory fades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little trip to the past and the little story how Dwalin and Ori had become so close.  
> Aka the filler.

It all had started from a friendly, encouraging half-hug, pulling the smaller one under his arm and taking a few step along his side when leaving the carrock, telling him how brave the scribe had been when faced with goblins and wargs and possibly certain death. Second time they were so close was on the first night at Beorn's house, helping the light-weight and currently slightly drunk scribe to the great hall which was filled with makeshift beds with piles of fur and blankets.

Dori and Nori were also quite drunk, still holding their ales better than their little brother. Dwalin had noticed the sleepy dwarf and aided him toward the hall, while his brothers were lifting their nth tankards up and down their throats, drunken enough not to watch so much after their little one. When they had reached the sleeping hall, Ori had spun around and latched to his chest, burying his face in to the soft furs on the warrior's shoulders. Quickly recovering from the small shock, Dwalin wound his arms around the smaller one, hugging him back gently. The ale really had dimmed his mind, it seemed, being so... attached. Ori soon pushed himself away from the warrior with a wide smile on his face, mumbling something about wanting to hug somebody. Ori slumped on his bed and drifted to sleep. Small smile appeared on the older one's lips as the last words escaped the scribes mouth: ”Just you...”

Third time was in Mirkwood when the darkness had fallen upon them on their sixth day of travel. Dwalin was keeping watch over the fire and his sleeping companions. The scribe had silently left his brothers' side and walked next to Dwalin, not saying a word he sat next to him, slightly shivering from the cold and fright. It felt so natural to wound his strong arm around the relatively lithe shoulders for a dwarf, pulling the other closer. His action did not face any sort of protest, just Ori pressing even closer. Tightly tugged under the warrior's arm where he fit just perfectly.

They shared couple of same kind of moments during the journey through Mirkwood before the spiders . Dwalin was the one tugging Ori along after Bilbo had released them. Their next close contact had to wait until they had escaped the elven cells by the barrels and reached Laketown. Without much of a thought did Dwalin seek out the barrel having the scribe inside and dug him out. The poor little thing was completely soaked and shivering, not to mention barely conscious. He took Ori to the grass near the shore, where Fili and Kili were already starting up a fire to dry their clothes. The youngest brothers were lucky ones with their barrels, staying quite dry for whole journey. But they were not stupid and selfish and bragged about it, but took of their cloaks and Fili threw his on shivering Ori and Kili places his on Oin's shoulders. What Dwalin later realized was that neither Nori nor Dori had protested against the warrior's help towards their brother. Until later they had told about the times they had noticed Ori missing their side, seeing him curled up against the warrior by the fire sleeping all safe and sound under Dwalin's watchful eyes.

During their short stay at Laketown Dwalin and Ori spent time talking more about the battles the warrior had seen and other nonsense. Once Ori had mentioned he was scared to face the dragon really. The short threat about” the dwarfish iron up in his jacksies” was all the ale talk. ”Whenever ye feel scared, come to me,” the warrior offered. He did not expect to see the scribe next night curled against his side. Thorin had informed during the evening that they will leave for The Lonely Mountain at the break of dawn, to face the dragon. Yet again, the scribe was like the corresponding puzzle piece against Dwalin. He dared to press small kiss atop the other's hair, all grown out of the neat bowl cut.

Such a display of affection was somewhat new to the old, battle-worn dwarf, but with the smaller dwarf it felt so natural. He knew he cared deeply about the scribe and after waking up with Ori close to his face, had he tested would Ori seek his hugs any more pressing his dry lips against Ori's almost bare cheek. He really was getting too soft when the scribe was around. Brown eyes peeked under the eyelids, slight blush appearing to the smaller one's cheeks. But the small smile that followed after did tell Dwalin all he wanted to know.

After their leave from Laketown, had Ori taken his place with a pony next to Dwalin, speaking with him sometimes, but as they reached closer their destination, had the noises decreased to only the sound of walking ponies. When they had stopped for the night, had Ori sneaked close to him once more. NEither Nori nor Dori made anything to actually stop him coming to the warrior even when they saw him do so. Dwalin and Ori spoke in hushed tones as they lay on their bedrolls facing each other. Dwalin told more tales about the glorious Erebor when it still was inhabited with dwarves. And Ori did listen to him watching him all the time. When the older one had ended his last tale, Ori pressed his forehead against his, their noses touching and slightly tilting his head and gave a peck on on Dwalin's lips. That was quite straight forward in the dwarvish standards. But he didn't mind. The scribe had only done what Dwalin had kept himself from doing since they survived from the awful barrel ride.

Dwalin had lost the count how many times Ori was pressed against his side when they reached the mountain and searched for the hidden door. And when they were trapped inside the mountain with blocked door behind them and horrible dragon ahead, it was impossible to see Ori away from him. And when the dragon was gone and they were searching for the lost Arkenstone after Thorin had fallen mad, had Ori's brothers approached him in the matter of their brother and their closeness. Even when Dori and Nori both kept close eye on Ori, they were relieved from the attention Dwalin was giving. Even when Nori still carried some grudges against the warrior, had he accepted the fact that Ori and Dwalin had become more that friends during the journey. They trusted Ori in his care for now on.

The elves and men appearing to the entrance of the mountain and their demands had turned Dwalin's focus to Thorin now. And when the Arkenstone came to picture, Thorin seemed to have lost the last piece of sanity in his head. Bilbo was cast out of the mountain for treason against Thorin by handing the Arkenstone to the 'enemy'. And when the wargs and orcs started to appear to the wide open land before the Lonely Mountain and they were ready to fight once more for their home, had Dwalin spoken to Ori in private. ”Be brave, my scribe. Fight with all yer might...” ”But what if... what if we die...” Ori hugged the warrior's torso with all of his strength. ”I will make sure ye survive. Heck, if we both survive I promise to marry you straight after the battle,” pressing a kiss on top of Ori's head, feeling the other's lips move against his chest. ”You better keep your promise then...”


	3. Out to the wide world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin is prepared to leave the Mountain. And reminisce how important it has been to have Ori by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: No BETA. Just spell check. Because I am too impatient to get these things online.  
> And I still don't know how to use AWs...

Dwalin strapped the axe holders across his back and buckled the clasp on front. The dawn was jsut a few moments away. He fought with himself; if to wake the still sleeping scribe or just leave him sleeping and leave. Ori didn't have any sort of obligation to follow him. After all, he wasn't able to keep his promise to take Ori his companion for life after the battle, lying exhausted and wounded in the healing tent, enough strength to drag himself to say last goodbyes to his King and his nephews. Ori had survived without much of damage and was running around the quiet battle field with others who were able to move somehow, searching for survivors to save and orcs and wargs to thrust sword or javelin through their skulls. Or at some cases give the merciful ending for warrior of their side, no matter if it was an elf, a man or another dwarf, but only if they had pleaded it by themself.

When he finally saw Ori again after the battle was when the king was laid down in the marble tomb by Balin, Gloin, Bofur and few other dwarfs. The scribe just stood there head hanging low and shoulders shaking from blinking back his tears. What pained Dwalin was that Ori was standing almost feet away from him. The rest of the Company who survived and was able knelt beside the now-closed tomb and do the honor. For the King under the Mountain and his nephews, the heirs. Dwalin stayed behind in the small hall with the three tombs side by side after everyone else had left. The cold silent was thick and depressing. He knelt back down in front of the tombs and bowed his head.

Slightly rough hands were set on his shoulders, slowly circling the whole arms around his neck. The tattered purple tunic sleeve easily gave out who it was. Dwalin lifted his head and let himself fall backwards, straight in to the arms of Ori. It was most vulnerable moment he ever had experienced in his life. His weakest moment. But he was willing Ori to see all this. Ori had trusted him with the most secret things and fears he had. This was Dwalin's payback to show his own trust towards the little one. The old battle-worn warrior hadn't let tears slip for many decades. But now he let them come. He wasn't afraid to do so now. And this was the time when Ori was the one being the solid rock of comfort midst the sadness.

They were each other's tower of strength; Dwalin to Ori when it was something physical, Ori to Dwalin when it was matter of mind and emotions. And now Dwalin had made his mind about what to do with Ori. He took long strides towards the makeshift bead and woke the scribe with a kiss on his eyelids. They didn't have much time before the deadline of exodus. Ori was still middle of progressing what was happening when Dwalin pulled him up from the bed and led him towards the door, lifting Ori's bag from by the door and left the room.

The entrance out of the mountain was packed with audience. Dwalin turned his gaze to Ori, asking if he really was sure. No one had yet seen the scribe with him so he still had the chance to stay. And Dwalin also reminded him about the fact of inexistent obligation. But the smaller hand in his gave a squeeze and pulled him in the open area, towards the exit. The gasps and surprised talk and whispers filled the air as the scribe was also now seen leaving. Ori held his head high, which made Dwalin proud. The youngest of brothers Ri had grown into a dwarf with strong opinion of his own affairs, showing courage throughout the journey.

The sun was just rising when those two stepped out in the early winter's crisp morning air. And they left without having a last glance towards the mountain. Outside they made a stop to Dale, where men, elves and dwarves were rebuilding houses and setting up small businesses like food and wine, fabrics and other small necessities. Dwalin found two enough good ponies for two of them to travel faster.

“Faster to where? We don't basically have anywhere to go right now... Except back to Blue Mountains,” Ori sighed. There really was no place to go just like that. But it somewhat was good thing. They could settle down where ever they just wanted. But being two dwarfs middle of villages of men just wasn't something Ori might have liked, being like sore thumb among the others. “I was thinking heading to see the burglar, at least he’s familiar face and he may help us come up with something...” pulling the smaller dwarf to his side as they were walking out of the town after gathering some supplies to survive a few days trip to still recovering Laketown. There they would get little bit more supplies before heading towards The Shire. “We could also stop at Beorn’s. And if he allows us, we could stay there till spring…” “Could we… Oh, never mind,” the scribe turned his gaze down, not daring to say what he was thinking. It just could make warrior little bit angry. Dwalin just continued walking with the smaller dwarf tugged to his side.

The weather was on their side on that otherwise chilly autumn air. The scent of snow was already floating in the air. As they reached the border of Mirkwood, there was someone standing and waving at them. “I-I hope you don’t mind… I did send a raven to bring message to Mirkwood elves to send someone to guide as through the forest… I… I don’t much like the idea of seeing those spiders again”. Dwalin left out hearty laugh which seemed to make the scribe relax. “I don’t mind. Somehow I had the nagging feeling ye’d do something like this…”

Their journey through the forest was much more pleasant that the earlier one. The elf kept watch for them during the nights and made sure nothing could come near them. Dwalin had purchased a thick leather tent big enough to give shelter for two dwarfs against the cold nights. The warrior had pulled the scribe tightly against his chest. The night were also pitch black, making it hard to just look at the other, like Dwalin used to do after Ori had fallen sleep next to him while back at Erebor. After the funeral Ori had not left the warrior’s side for days. And Dwalin was grateful of the little one’s company. Balin was still quite weak and his cousins tending their wounds. Every night he found Ori sleeping curled against his chest, his breath slow and calming. Dwalin could not help himself but placed a kiss on the other’s brow and watched the smile form on the scribe’s lips. That smaller dwarf made the old warrior’s life worth living even after the guilt not being able to save his king. But he had saved the scribe. Lying on his side Ori once more tugged to his chest, listening the other’s peaceful breathing lulled the warrior to sleep all those nights they travelled through the dark forest.


	4. ...and back again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The route of the Journey is now reversed and seeing familiar faces always warms one's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: No BETA. Just spell check. Because I am too impatient to get these things online.  
> And I still don't know how to use AWs...

After weeks of slow passing through the forest had the trio reached the border of Mirkwood. The dwarves, or more like just Ori, bid the farewell to their elven guide and made their way towards Beorn, the skinchanger's, home. The snowflakes were dancing in the open air as they traveled. They should arrive just in couple of days to the house deep in the forest. But with Ori as a traveling companion, it meant at least three days because the scribe wanted to draw every possible thing he had missed last time. Dwalin gritted his teeth a few times but was forgiving the delay easily when Ori was sleeping in his lap as the warrior watched the fire.

On the third day,a s Dwalin had predicted, they saw the large wood log house between the trees. They greeted the horses lounging in the open and waited patiently them to return with their master. The few battle scars decorated the massive man's arms and legs, a scar running across his shoulder. But the grin and joyous shouts gave out that they were quite welcomed guests. Much more lighter steps were heard after the gigantic man has stopped and the familiar dirty blond curls came in the dwarves' view. “Bilbo!” Ori shouted and launched himself towards the hobbit. The hug was firm but gentle. Luckily the scribe knew how much force to use when hugging someone. Dwalin gave him satisfied smile and gave a god hand shake for both Beorn and Bilbo. They were soon guided towards the house and good food.

Dwalin was explaining their situation to Beorn while Bilbo was showing Ori where they could sleep. At first Bilbo has shown him two separate rooms but the scribe had shyly corrected their need for just one. Bilbo felt his heart warm and smiled a true, genuine smile for longest time. Two basically total opposites balancing and completing each other. Ori laid their things on the floor and glanced out the large window displaying the 'backyard' of the house. He gently tugged the curtains more close so only thin stripe of window was showing and letting enough light in. He did explain that the large open windows did little bit unnerve him after the Mountain with the small windows. And the open air was totally different from sleeping inside a house.

They soon joined the other two for late supper in the warm dining hall. Dwalin stretched himself out on the rugs and furs laid in front of the fireplace and puffed his pipe as Bilbo and Beorn did the same, Ori sitting next to Dwalin knitting one of his little projects. It looked like he was making pair of woolen socks, big enough to fit Dwalin's feet it seemed. The night dimmed to total darkness upon the house and they all wandered towards their rooms greatly yawning. Ori had long ago fallen asleep against the warrior, slightly snoring. But Dwalin had just picked him up bridal style and carried him after Bilbo who showed him their room. 'Good nights' were bid and the warrior pushed the door open with his foot, walked in and closed in it in the same manner. He placed Ori on the bed and took of the scribe's boots and stripped the outer layers. The room was getting cold after the fire was left unattended for too long. But nothing that couple of logs wouldn't fix.

Dwalin was kneeling and stroke the embers with long log and threw it in to the fire. He heard feet land on the floor behind him, footsteps following soon after, coming closer. A sleepy Ori was draped over his left shoulder as the scribe's arms wound around his neck and gave a light squeeze. They stayed like that for a moment until Dwalin threw his arms behind him, hooking them under the smaller one's kneecaps and stood up, carrying Ori on his back. He dropped him on the bed and turned around to give a small peck o his lips and walked to a chair next to the window, just a few feet away from the bed. Ori dug his night shirt from the pack he had placed next to the bed and changed into it. After his task he just watched as Dwalin changed into his own, watching as the long some what fresh battle scars were hidden under the light fabric. Dwalin returned to the bed and climbed next to Ori. The younger one was already fast asleep when the old warrior leaned down to press one more kiss on his love's lips before lying down and draping his arm over Ori's waist.

The days turned into a weeks and weeks turned into a months and the time flew. Gandalf had joined them and was now preparing their leave towards the Shire. Ori was quite excited when he heard they would make a stop at Rivendell. The scribe had learned about Elrond's library. Dwalin on the other hand would had just passed the 'bloody elven place', as he called it. Lack of good meaty food was still freshly in his memory. But upon seeing Ori's face and excitement he gave up to the idea. And so they were restocked and ready to leave.


	5. Time heals the wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There lays many surprises on the road. Some might rip the old wounds open, some might just patch them up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry to keep this last chapter from you for so long but I had little busy couple of weeks after the 4th chapter.  
> But enjoy the grande finale.

And so the company of four travelers and four ponies and a horse set on the second last phase of their journey. They had started with everyone riding their own mount, but not far from Beorn's house had one pony already gone unoccupied and one pony sporting a double load of travelers. Gandalf had brought a few new letters for Ori and Dwalin when he came to Beorn's. Ori had opened them and read them while riding, straying from the path and trail more and more behind until Dwalin had them pull over for a moment and lifted the scribe off of his pony, sharing the load between the two ponies and sat Ori in front of him, keeping his arm around the scribe’s middle to keep him from falling. Ori was very much just focusing on his letters, so it was easier and much quicker to make that sort of rearrangement. Not that Dwalin wound mind it at all...

_“To our little brother Ori,_

_First things first, Dori is really REALLY upset you left without saying anything. I found your letter before him so I had some time to prepare myself to tell him about your little escape. But I think you won't be coming back anytime soon, are you? In the end Dori took it quite well, considering he still isn't quite on terms with you being with Dwalin. He assumed you were merely courting each other and it wouldn't obligate you to follow him but I did suspect it was something else._

_I truly do hope you made the right decision. And please, do not forget us while traveling._

_All best of luck,  
Nori  & Dori, your big brothers ~~you left behind~~ ”_

Ori smiled a little while reading the letter Nori had written, with the little overruled part that looked suspiciously like Dori’s hand writing. The second letter was from Dori, going on and on with Ori's decision to follow the warrior. But in the end, he did wish them to be happy, where ever they were going to settle, as long as they would meet. Ori read the final sentences and lifted the letter up Dwalin to see what Dori had written. The warrior tightened his hold on the other one's middle and pressed a kiss on his love's temple. He really still wasn't quite confident showing his affection in public, but traveling behind the wizard and the hobbit had its perks. Ori tugged the letters back into his bag and relaxed against Dwalin's chest, humming quietly. It wasn’t like Dwalin hadn’t read the letters before; it just was amusing to read the Ri Brothers accept the fact that Ori was Dwalin’s chosen one and vice versa. But he still wondered could he ever make Ori an honorable companion without the approval of his past King.

Gandalf had chosen a lot safer but longer route over the Misty Mountains. And they even spent a night in a cave, checked throughout at least five times before any of them laid their bedrolls on the ground. Ori laid on his stomach and writing a reply letters to his older brothers, thrusting a piece of paper and a spare quill to Dwalin for him to do the same for his own older brother. They had said their farewell to each other in Dale before leaving for Laketown and beyond. Balin gave them much needed map of Middle-Earth and couple of letters to deliver to Beorn. They’d send the letter to Erebor once they’d reach Rivendell. But now the little yawns of the scribe distracted Dwalin too much to even begin writing, setting the writing equipment away, both his and Ori’s. Gandalf and Bilbo were talking silently with each other about who knows what, their backs slightly turned towards the two dwarrows. It gave perfect opportunity for Dwalin to pull the smaller dwarf tightly on his chest and shared a good-night kiss with him. And once again like many times before the scribe was fast asleep tugged safely under the warrior’s arm. In the dawn they would continue towards the last stop before the Shire.

As the travelers reached their destination of the Elven Home, enchanting music filled the air accompanied with clear voices singing like bells. Bilbo and Gandalf seemed to enjoy the little welcoming song but Dwalin just crunched his face and fought the urge to cover his ears from the noise. But the smaller dwarf still sitting in his lap was so mesmerized also that he was leaning from side to side and almost fell couple of times if Dwalin wouldn’t be keeping his arms around him. Elrond, possessing the gift of seeing into the future, had arranged a feast for their honour, this time surprisingly tasting meat and last time requested chips especially for Ori. Well, this time the feast was much more approved than last time. As the evening started to darken, Elrond led the three tired, but happy travelers towards a area which was meant for relaxing and music to enjoy and perform. Faint harp sound carried to their ears from the distance. The sound was enchanting, definitely an elven harp, but the weight of the plucking the strings and tune wasn’t. Soon a pair of fiddles joined the tune. But not until they had reached the small clearing it dawned to them who were playing; in front of them sat a dwarf with raven black curly hair with harp between his legs, next to him one with golden and other raven black haired younger dwarf with fiddles. Ori gasped and threw his both hands over his mouth. Bilbo just stood there, quietly. And Elrond’s smug smile just felt to reach him ear to ear upon seeing the reactions. Bilbo felt something travelling down from his right eye across his cheek. They just stood there and watched as the playing trio finished their piece. “I bring you guests, o’ Thorin,” Elrond announced and ushered the travelers towards the widely smiling dwarrows.

In the blink of an eye Kili was draped all over Bilbo, Fili hugging Ori and Thorin giving bear hug to his old friend, staying like that while Kili and Fili switched their victims. When they departed the brothers stepped in front of the warrior, just to be swept into tight hug with couple happy curses. Ori bowed to Thorin, but for his surprise, was pulled into a hug and given a smile. Thorin let go of the scribe and turned to the hobbit, standing there with utter disbelief, watery eyes focused on Thorin. The dwarf king walked to Bilbo and swept him up in his strong arms and pressed him tightly against himself. It hurt. But it was the good kind of hurt.

The spring changed quickly into the warm summer days. The group of five dwarrows, a hobbit and a wizard were ready to finish the last part of the journey, the destination being the Shire. And there could not be happier company: Ori was sporting a beautiful mithril bead in his grown hair, clasped to the end of a complex braid. Dwalin had similar braid behind his ear with identical bead in the end of it, tangling over his collar bone. Bilbo had received an ear cuff, clasped to his earlobe, similar to one of Thorin’s. Fili and Kili couldn’t stop aww’ing when other, or both, of the couples were being cute. Most of the time it was being Ori and Dwalin as the warrior was now actually openly showering the scribe with kisses and gentle touches. Thorin and Bilbo on the other hand just shared simple Eskimo kisses and arm around the other as they walked around the Last Homely Home. They all shared a small smile as a brunet child ran past them, followed by two identical elven males chasing him around the open corridors. The boy often hid either behind Elrond or an elven woman with similar features as Elrond and the twins. Young Estel, as they called him, was also spending a lot of time with the former princes of Erebor, now just two ordinary, but happy dwarrows. Ori promised to send one copy of the Quest to reclaim Erebor, written and illustrated by Bilbo Baggins and Ori. The wonders after the crowning of Dain were left out, finishing the story to beginning of the new era of reclaimed dwarven kingdom.

The Shire was beautiful. The greenery was marvelous and plenty, small hobbitlings running next to the company. And after the mess Sackville-Bagginses had left for Bilbo to sort out and track down his possession, had the Bag End being filled with joy and laughter. Not too far away was a nice little hill where, for everyone’s surprise, Dwalin announced to build a home for him and Ori. And in the next spring it was ready, all wood carvings and furniture made by dwarven hands with little of twist of hobbit-y fashion, but not too much. They had sent a message to Balin asking him to visit their new home, not telling about Thorin or his nephews, inviting others to join them as well. And so a delegation of eight dwarrows arrived to the doorstep of Bag End, just in time to celebrate the new beginning summer and the new dwarven home, not under a mountain, but nice grassy hill. And oh the faces when the celebrating dwarrows where greeted with the presence of their King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuh, there seemed to be prompt somewhere about the "resurrection" of Thorin and the nephews 8D  
> I leave it to you to come up with how those adorkable dwarrows are alive.  
> Or I just do another "explaining" chapter... Flashbacks are fun.  
> EDIT: And sorry for making this pop up, I was kindly told about little mistake~  
> Feel free to point them out 8D I don't bite.

**Author's Note:**

> I will add characters and warnings and other tags when we will get further with this story.


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